Singleton turned and whispered a few words to a clerk, who hurried from the room. Then he motioned to two smooth-faced, well-built men who sat near by, spoke a word to the coroner, and retired with them into the latter's private office. The reporters crowded about us with congratulations and questions. They scented a mystery. What was the matter with Singleton? What was the new piece of evidence? Was it the note? What was in the note? Mr. Royce smiled. "Gentlemen," he said, "I trust that my connection with this affair will end in a very few minutes. For any further information, I must refer you to the district attorney--the case is in his hands." But those men he had summoned into his office were Karle and Johnston, the cleverest detectives on the force. What did he want with them? Mr. Royce merely shrugged his shoulders. Whereat the reporters deserted him and massed themselves before the door into the coroner's room. It opened in a moment, and the two detectives came hurrying out. They looked neither to the right nor left, but shouldered their way cruelly through the crowd, paying not the slightest attention to the questions showered upon them. Then the district attorney came out, and took in the situation at a glance. "Gentlemen," he said, raising his voice, "I can answer no questions. I must request you to resume your seats, or I shall ask the coroner to clear the room." They knew that he meant what he said, so they went back to their chairs chagrined, disgusted, biting their nails, striving vainly to work out a solution to the puzzle. It was the coroner's clerk who created a diversion. "The jury is ready to report, sir," he announced. "Very well; bring them out," and the jurymen filed slowly back to their seats. I gazed at each face, and cursed the inexpressiveness of the human countenance. "Have you arrived at a verdict, gentlemen?" asked the coroner. "We have, sir," answered one of them, and handed a paper to the clerk. "Is this your verdict, gentlemen?" asked the coroner. "Do you all concur in it?" They answered in the affirmative as their names were called. "The clerk will read the verdict," said Goldberg. Julius stood up and cleared his throat. "We, the jury," he read, "impaneled in the case of Hiram W. Holladay, deceased, do find that he came to his death from a stab wound in the neck, inflicted by a pen-knife in the hands of a person or persons unknown." CHAPTER V I Dine with a Fascinating Stranger The coroner dismissed the jury, and came down and shook hands with us. "I'm going to reward you for your clever work, Mr. Royce," he said. "Will you take the good news to Miss Holladay?" My chief could not repress the swift flush of pleasure which reddened his cheeks, but he managed to speak unconcernedly. "Why, yes; certainly. I'll be glad to, if you wish it," he said. "I do wish it," Goldberg assured him, with a tact and penetration I though admirable. "You may dismiss the policeman who is with her."